


The Space Between Our Scars

by Jadedphase



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, set very shortly after Day Trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 21:24:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1617581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadedphase/pseuds/Jadedphase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We'll play connect the dots with your scars, tie you back together from the inside out with all the good things of the past and draw pictures of the future between the lines."</i>
</p><p>Monty was speaking in riddles and Jasper couldn't make sense of it but it didn't matter, his whole world was made of sensation right then and Monty was taking away all the barbed wire in his brain with that smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Space Between Our Scars

The Grounder had escaped and their fearless leader had gone off the deep end; Monty had begun to wonder if this was how the world ended. Or at least their version of it, since the past had shown them already that the human race coming to a halt hardly meant the end of a world that had no need for them; and maybe it was satisfied with watching the scrambling remainders struggling their way through the long days. 

Jasper had finally given up carrying around a stick he claimed was important but he couldn't remember exactly why and taken up carrying some invisible weight on his shoulders that held them down more than his usual slack demeanor.  
If it was the beginning of the end, carved out with bullets and battles and lies, Monty couldn't really claim to know what to do about it that time around. He could handle small crisis situations, usually ones that fit into a Jasper-shaped space in his life, but so far as it went around camp he was just watching it all unfold.

"He's going to come back," Jasper hissed at the fire as he sat there rubbing his hands together and seeing things in the flames no doubt that Monty could not, "I know he's going to tell the others and they're all going to come back. And then we're in trouble." 

"Not if the Clarke and Bellamy army have anything to say about it," Monty mused and tossed a stick into the flickering flames where it was quickly devoured. 

Jasper shot him an exasperated look, eyes only slightly glinting in the darkness; whatever hesitations Jasper might have had about the idea of those guns was outweighed by far by his paranoia that the Grounders would return and they both knew it.

Monty held his hands up in a passive gesture of defeat, not wanting to argue the situation when he knew it wasn't one that would cause anything but anxiety and there was enough of that running through Jasper's veins already.

The silence stretched out like the night sky around them, the occasional shift and shuffle from the one and the restless prodding at the dust from the other being the only thing keeping the fire company as the evening carried on around them. Silence had never been uneasy between them but maybe that was more because it was so rare; Monty counted sleep and extreme highs as really the only time Jasper had been silent. Or used to be, apparently looming forests and spear wounds took a lot of the energetic conversation out of a person.

It was finally Monty who moved, stretched to pop the joints grown stiff and the muscles turned sore from perching on the bit of fallen log he was using as a seat. Jasper swung his head to watch, curiosity dancing across his vision. 

"Where you going?" 

It was painful to hear the note of nerves being the question, it was always worse at night.

"Tent. Looks like it's going to rain soon," Monty's words trailed behind him as he took a couple of steps in the direction of their shared corner of the camp, "I found something interesting today."

Interesting by Monty standards could be anything from an odd plant to a strange insect or even something far more entertaining. Jasper almost envied the fact that Monty wasn't having too terrible a time adjusting to their new home, the natural setting seemed to fit him like a long-forgotten second skin; a degree of comfortable that most of them hadn't found a way to reach yet. But mostly right that moment he was hopeful that the 'something interesting' Monty had found would be the old sort of interesting rather than the Earth sort; the old interesting meant distraction and that always appealed to Jasper. 

He remained by the warmth of the fire another few seconds, then clambered to his feet and darted after Monty's fading shadow.

By the time Jasper had arrived Monty was already seated in the center of their tent, surrounded by the sparse few clothes between them they weren't wearing and a couple of scavenged and worn blankets from Clark and Bellamy's venture to the bunker. Space with a roof was a luxury in camp that made it an easy excuse for the two of them to share, and lately Jasper hadn't been sleeping well so it was just easier to be there when he woke up than to go chasing him around the camp in a fit of nightmares and anxiety. 

It wasn't like they hadn't nearly lived together most of the last few years before their imprisonment on the Ark anyway, the only difference was that Monty's family's dwelling had solid walls and floors rather than dirt and canvas.

"I wonder how he got away," Jasper whispered softly as he flopped down in a tangle of thin limbs and awkward angles that took up more space than he physically should have been able to, "you think he'll kidnap Octavia again?"

Monty didn't reply to the question, not having any answers for him when it came to that matter. Octavia was simply who she was, Monty could not fault her for it anymore than he could direct her attention to his best friend's obsessive devotion to her.  
Devotion born of, so far as Monty could tell; some moment Jasper had, in the usual Jasper fashion, taken some simple glance and blown up into a litany of adoration in his head. It was the sort of determination that made Jasper equal parts brave and stupid, maybe a little more the latter since Octavia had her own life to attend and it didn't exactly fit Jasper into the storyline. 

Rather than debate misplaced devotion Monty simply continued onward with his evening plans, shifting a discarded shirt aside to retrieve from under it a canister. When he lifted it to show to Jasper his friend's gaze turned more perplexed as he asked what it was and why Monty was so excited over an old can. 

"Not a can," Monty corrected as he turned the canister over to unscrew the lid and held it out once more for Jasper's scrutiny.  
Nearly instantly the acidic scent of alcohol filled the tiny space of the tent and Jasper's eyes went as large as the goggles resting atop his head. 

Alcohol was not their entertainment of choice back on the Ark, but given their dire circumstances it was good enough. 

When Monty had discovered the silver object while he'd been working his way through a small grove of trees in the search for food the sunlight had caught his eye and drawn it to the metal among the moss and grass.  
There had been a camp there once, he had been able to tell by the rocks around a fire pit and the way branches had been stacked to support a shelter, but the occupant must not have been there for years since most of the camp had been reclaimed by the woods. But the forest had no use for the vices of men and had rejected the canister. 

"It's safe, strong, but safe; I tried it already." Monty drew the canister away and held back an amused sound when Jasper's gaze followed the motion. 

If Monty said it was safe then it was safe, Jasper decided, since who else but Monty knew so much about all those substances that made peoples' brain hum? Years of study of Monty creating new concoctions out of gathered plants and chemicals led Jasper to the conviction that his friend was nothing short of a genius.

"Want to go first?"

The words had only barely been spoken before Jasper was nodding and taking the canister from him, trusting that it was safe because Monty told him it was and if nothing else he could depend on what Monty said. 

It went down with a bitter edge that reminded him of how pine trees smelled and burned all the way to his stomach and made Jasper flinch, muttering in agreement that strong wasn't the right word for the nasty taste left behind. But the burn felt so good, it warmed him from the inside out and Jasper shivered with a happy little sound. Once Monty had taken a long drain of the amber colored liquid Jasper took another, back and forth between the two of them until the canister was half empty and they were both starting to feel a fuzzy glaze to the world around them. 

"Maybe Grounders do one thing right." Jasper debated as the effects of that native drink took hold of him, trying not to snicker and losing the battle, his tolerance had always been just a little weaker than Monty and he had begun to feel distant from the dark places in his mind. Monty snorted in amusement, sinking back to tuck his arms behind his head and stare at the stained canvas ceiling of the tent.

Jasper didn't cease his moving around, first pushing blankets back and forth, then tugging the doorway of the tent closed, and finally sitting and picking at the fuzzballs on his shirt. 

"You need a shower," he proclaimed, for an instant his eyes narrowed as he studied Monty and came to the conclusion that he was indeed a dirty mess.

"Haven't taken a look in the mirror lately, have you?" Monty laughed, tipping his head back when his brains felt as though they might shift to the side if he kept looking that direction; he wanted them to all stay where they were since he needed them.

Jasper was shaking his head slowly, as though he needed to contemplate the idea of a mirror right then, "do mirrors exist here?"

Monty couldn't really say one way or the other so he shrugged and for whatever reason that shrug sent Jasper into a fit of some midpoint between laughter and giggling. 

It was the sound Monty loved to hear, it was Jasper happy and sane and how he used to be.

"But you look worse," Jasper stubbornly smirked and stretched, squirmed and sighed, rubbing his dusty nails against the front of his shirt. 

"Scars itch." 

The way he said it seemed almost sad to Monty, like all the world was against him and out to make him miserable; and that made Monty rather annoyed at the world. Jasper was too good for that, couldn't the world pick on somebody else a while?

"You're supposed to stretch them or something," Monty offered as he rolled back over to turn his gaze to Jasper, "remember when you smashed your knee? Like that."

Jasper's brow furrowed as he tried to recall, finally his thoughts pulled together the recollection of a trip over something, Monty's bag, and a tumble into a table that had split his knee from end to end sideways. He still had the scar, but it was faint, Monty's mother had produced some odd smelling pale green slime that he had to endure being applied to that scar for weeks when the rough tissue had begun to heal too tightly to flex his knee well. 

"Oh, yeah, I remember that." He nodded and paused, filling in blanks, "we don't have the stuff your mom did."

There was no real arguing that, if Monty remembered the conversation later he'd look though, Aloe had to grow somewhere. 

"Let me see," Monty sat up suddenly, reaching for Jasper's jacket and pushing it back off his shoulders. The heavier fabric shed off his bony frame with little resistance and then Monty was pushing his shirt upward to study those nearly healed scars decorating Jasper's chest. 

It wasn't so terrible, Monty figured it looked better than expected given that a spear wasn't exactly a mosquito bite.

Jasper sat passively, a weary little sigh escaping him, now a part of his past was written on his skin and he could never be free of it. 

"They're so bad."

"Not really," Monty argued, "they make you look tough. Right? Isn't that what scars do?"

The logic was there, perhaps, but Jasper wasn't convinced as easily as he should have been; Monty didn't lie to him but those scars made he feel weak rather than strong. 

One little mistake and now everyone in the camp knew what a screw-up he was. 

While Jasper was rolling in his doubts Monty was riding the blur in his blood and letting it flood his mind with pleasant nonsense, but it wasn't as good if Jasper was looking morose about things and ruining his buzz. 

"We'll fix it," he finally decided as his fingers hooked in the fabric and the next instant Jasper was blinking at the dizziness of a flash of fabric over his eyes and the shirt tossed aside. Rather than protest he simply looked at Monty with curiosity over how his best friend was going to make the scars go away; could Monty do that? 

He'd always known Monty was special and brilliant, but was Monty magic too? Could he take away scars? The ones on the outside and the ones buried under his skin? Jasper wasn't sure but the idea was an exciting one; maybe Monty could make him better and everything would be good again. 

That nod returned, eager and hopeful, his faith bright in his eyes even as the alcohol was burning in his blood. 

Monty gave him a push back and Jasper sank to the ground, palms and then elbows propped to the blankets and he reeled at the sudden change of view.  
And then there was Monty, hovering just in his line of sight but all wrong and upside down until he realized Monty was crouched near his head looking downward at him. 

Snickering, Jasper reached up to give Monty a push over, then tipped his head back enough to look at him at where he'd fallen into sitting; "What're you doing?"

The object he couldn't figure out that Monty was suddenly holding came into focus as a stick, then not a stick exactly because it was dark on the end like it had been burnt. This mystery revealed itself to Jasper when the other ran the stick across his palm and held it up to show off the line left behind by the charcoal.  
Oh, well that explained the what, but not the why; and then Monty had moved again and Jasper watched him with heavy-lidded eyes as he settled down next to him instead, within reach but convincing his arm to lift took more effort than he was willing to put forth then. 

So he just listened while Monty started to ramble, the sound of his voice soothing. 

"We'll play connect the dots with your scars, tie you back together from the inside out with all the good things of the past and draw pictures of the future between the lines."

And with the words came the slide of faintly rough charcoal along his skin.

It nipped at his ribs and sent an odd little twitch up Jasper's spine when the tip of that makeshift pencil caught on the raised flesh of scar tissue higher on his chest; tiny firefly sparks hit the nerves under his skin and sank straight into his blood. 

Monty was speaking in riddles and Jasper couldn't make sense of it but it didn't matter, his whole world was made of sensation right then and Monty was taking away all the barbed wire in his brain with that smile. 

True to his words, Monty began to draw shaky lines from scar to scar, swoops and curves and shapes that made no sense to Jasper from the vantage point of tipping his chin down to look at them but with the way Monty's brow was furrowed in concentration he just accepted it was something important without asking.

The uneven lines turned slowly into stars and circles, what could only be assumed as the Earth sketched around the worst of those scars, it felt like each drag of the pencil left the choppy color burned into his skin and left Jasper feeling so very, very warm. 

"Don't draw the sky," he muttered with a disconnected frown, "it's not good there anymore."

So Monty didn't, he lifted his fingertips and rubbed away the stars and planets, smearing the past over that pale flesh and appeasing Jasper, earning a content murmur and the faintest nod for his efforts. 

Since his canvas was streaky the pencil was useless and Monty set it aside and sought out a better position to reach more with the slide of one leg over across the narrow line of Jasper's waist to settle himself perched where every inch of now-gray skin was under his study.

Wiping away the dirt on his hands, he used those to resume his work; pausing now and then to lick the dust away from his fingers so that when they met skin it wiped clean the charcoal in reverse lines instead. 

And before long blurry stains became trees and grass, the fire pit and the swirls of an incredible storm that was still so fresh in his memory. 

Jasper had all but gone limp with the very edge of his tongue sticking past his lower lip in a comical expression, stirring occasionally when there was a brush to his ribs that sent him into a fit of snorting giggles with the wash of ticklish sensation. He looked so entirely relaxed that Monty had to smile, it had been a lifetime ago when he had seen his friend so at peace. 

His artwork having gone fuzzy at the edges and most of the lines too difficult to make sense of anymore, he shifted back to admire the grand mess he'd made.  
Monty attempted to do exactly what he'd said he would, to find some glimpse of the future in those streaks of dust. Could he decipher the yet to be in the slow rise and fall of that living canvas? Did Jasper hold all the secrets the Earth refused to whisper to Monty because it was too selfish where as his best friend only gave and gave endlessly until there was nothing left but the skin and bones that hooked him together and held all the goodness that made him up locked inside?

Monty wished it were so simple, he could read Jasper like a book but lately the pages had been nearly blank and it all just looked like nonsense when he scanned his carefully crafted work.

Maybe that did make sense though, chaos was the order of the day anymore and all he and Jasper could do was survive inside their own heads.

"Why'd you stop?" Jasper murmured, eyes hitched back open and laced with the fog in his brain to match the lopsided smile on his lips, "felt nice."

"There's not any room left," Monty lamented as his fingers lingered near the thickest of those scars, watching the tiny flinch over the sensitivity rooted there when his hand ventured a few degrees closer. And it didn't take much of Monty's brilliant brain to make sense right then that Jasper no longer cared about the drawing half as much as he did the contact. 

He indulged Jasper, flexed his fingers against the gritty surface of his skin and swirled away all the pictures with the roll of his palms until he leaning over to reach the crest of tense collarbones and Jasper lifted a hand finally and caught hold of the back of his neck to pull him into those last few inches between them.

Clumsy and broken now and then by humored sounds, neither of them was sure which was uttering them, the kiss was light and as lazy as the sluggish spread and coil of fingers buried in Monty's dark hair while Jasper used that grip to keep the both of them grounded in the moment rather than slipping away into the fog idling in the corners of their minds. 

When it ended Jasper collapsed into those snickering giggles and his hands combed through the silk of his best friend's hair, feeling the remains of the last few weeks worth of toil around the camp a bit oily there but for whatever reason in that sensitive state he only found it more appealing. 

"Shut up man, somebody is going to hear you," Monty hissed when the sound hit his ears volumes louder than it really was and Jasper full out tipped into laughter that sent Monty over the edge as well because it was just too infectious the way his voiced pitched so uneven and exuberant. 

Once the humor had abandoned them a few moments later Jasper clenched his eyes shut to regain a bit of focus and gave the lull a chance to take his concerns away. 

"Because everyone around here cares what we're doing, right?" 

Monty couldn't argue that or with the way it felt like old times once Jasper's uncoordinated hands made a swipe at his jacket and shoved it out of the way, the clumsy effort ended in Monty shrugging off that outer layer himself while Jasper pawed and rambled on about too many clothes and how he felt itchy, too warm, except where Monty's hands had been before because he already missed it. 

"Why don't we do this when we're sober?" 

Amid the rest of the stray notions Jasper was carrying on with it was that question that caught Monty and held him silent a long moment until his shoulders heaved in a sigh and the smirk was as forced as the weak excuse; "Because you laugh too damn much during sex. And it's funny when I'm high, but it'd probably kill it if I'm sober."

Jasper countered with an indignant sound, sliding thin fingers up across the small strip of skin exposed when Monty stretched his hands high above his head before he slumped again, causing those momentary heavy thoughts to slip away on the wings to the butterflies that beat around the inside of his belly right then. 

When he caught hold of Jasper's wandering hands it was to push them back to the ground, swooping in and halting the questioning with a demonstration of his superior skills as he stole both Jasper's lips and his breath with a quick exploration of his tonsils via parted lips. Under his grasp he felt the twitch of hands that curled around his own and the thrill of victory when that grip tightened. 

They stayed that way, the taste of fading alcohol in the background of the give and take of that kiss, the back and forth of control shifting as easy as the breeze; neither of them had either the energy or the determination to make too many demands. It was a pleasant little lull where at some point hands began to roam again and eyes dropped shut, stealing the air from each other until there wasn't enough left to share and oxygen became less a luxury and more a need that drove them inches apart. 

"That is a seriously strong drink," Jasper remarked in a gleeful whisper while his brain hummed and his blood all felt like it was pooled white-hot far lower than his skull. And Monty was inclined to agree; they had chased plenty of highs on the Ark but that fermented liquid was like pure bliss and burn. "You've gotta learn how to make it." 

"My brain is melted down into my skull and I can't remember where my hands are," Monty replied with only vague attention to half of what Jasper had said, flexing fingers that were tingling and watching the teen under his touch squirm until finally he realized that instinct had directed them lower and lower until his thumb had tangled at Jasper's half undone belt. The fact had not gone unnoticed by the owner of that belt either, if the subtle little roll and shift towards Monty's lingering hands were any indication. 

"Come on man," the words a whine that spilled past Jasper's lips and made Monty want to duck back down to claim them all over again and he did debate it but decided finally that it was more important at that moment to fumble at the belt until it gave way enough to delve one hand between fabric and flesh, delighting in the stark warmth waiting there. 

Another swipe at the zipper with his free hand and suddenly there was enough room for it to join the first in what Monty intended to be a teasing brush, but once Jasper started making the breathy little sounds that rang familiar even through the fog bank residing in his brain Monty gave up on the subtleties and drug nails and fingertips across every inch of eager skin he could reach. 

It finally took the curl of his hand into a steady stroke rather than the random motion to earn the throaty groan he was after and by then Jasper's skull had tipped back and his mouth was hanging half open in a way that sent Monty into a faint giggle himself before he could help it, and tempted him into dipping his head to attack the tense curve of that pale neck with teasing lips and the occasional nip that reverberated as a shudder up and down Jasper's arched spine. 

They never made it back to a kiss right that moment, the closest Monty could reach was the point of Jasper's sharp chin tilted skyward while his lungs heaved in gulps of air, but it didn't make too much difference when he had Jasper otherwise exactly where he wanted him to be and it was selfishly a hint more satisfying to know that he was the one that was causing Jasper to come all undone in time to the slide of his thumb and the jerk of his hand.

When it was just 'JasperandMonty' there had been no tiny nag of uncertainty in the past. Feeling it now when he turned to speak to him and sometimes found empty air where his best friend should have rightly been it meant more, somehow, that he could still depend on Jasper trusting him. 

And what Monty was depending on right that moment was his own familiarity with him to push Jasper to his limits, that and his own sense of balance holding out as he'd had to shift his weight to his knees just to keep from being knocked aside once he found the right spot on his friend's neck to sink his teeth in a teasing bite. 

True to form a burst of choked laughter escaped Jasper when that brush of contact must have tickled and his hands shoved into Monty's hair to haul him forward into a kiss that caught them both off guard and made the angle of Monty's arm to start to ache from being trapped between them. But by then Jasper was rambling against his lips wordless sounds and Monty didn't dare ease up with the stroke of his fist, letting it build until he could sense the tension in the lanky teen build up in waves. 

Then, finally, Jasper lost the battle with his needy body, breaking with a guttural sound and a slump to the ground that almost did pitch Monty forward enough to smash his nose against the crest of Jasper's collarbone. 

Monty shifted back enough to center his balance back to his knees and used his free hand pressed to the Jasper's still heaving chest to push himself up some, tingling like pins and needles and biting back a frustrated sound himself while he freed his other hand and made no subtle effort of grabbing an edge of those blankets to wipe away the stickiness decorating his palm. 

All the motion sent Jasper into a mild fit of contented giggling as he rolled his shoulders back and licked his lips in a way that Monty assumed a satisfied cat probably would have, reeling and trailing off into nonsense while the fireworks in his blood smoldered out. 

"Sorry," Jasper murmured with a hazy smile when he finally realized not only was his friend still fully clothed but also looking a fair bit uncomfortable, "my turn?"  
Only Jasper could smile like sunshine incarnate even as he was reaching to tug open the clasp of Monty's pants like it was the most natural thing in the world between two friends.

"Damn right it's your turn," Monty retorted with a snicker, catching both of Jasper's slightly off-course hands and guiding them to the right spot. He had to undo his jeans himself but he wasn't going to fault the other teen for that since they were both still mildly intoxicated and he was more eager to just get on with it than to argue over the details. 

Monty's brain shut down, because regardless of how goofy and clumsy Jasper could often be as he scurried around the camp getting his sneakers caught in roots and bumping into tables and people alike he was surprisingly nimble when it came to using those fingers once they were where Monty needed them to be.

Maybe size did matter, Monty reflected to himself with a tiny amused snort, since Jasper's hands did border large compared to the rest of his rail-thin body, but that just made it so much better once they were rubbing and stroking all the right spots to make him weak in the knees. 

There had to be some technique to it, something in the way Jasper's fingers curled around him so perfectly and moved in just the right slow rhythm to wake Monty's usually passive body up to a roaring heat churning in the pit of his clenched stomach. Or it could have been the way Jasper watched him with the same yearning grin every damn time no matter what they were doing or how many times they had, studying him with equal parts determination and coaxing.

Whatever it was, it took all the hangups out of intimacy and made it so simple between them.

Monty's knees had begun to ache from the rough ground but his nerves were singing and he barely noticed his own slow sinking down until he felt the nudge against his back when Jasper drew his leg up to offer some support to lean back against, good enough, and Monty dropped a hand to brace against that folded limb while everything else turned into pleasure. 

When he squeezed his eyes shut Monty could see the stars but all he could feel was the spot when Jasper's hands roamed up and down his aching flesh, grip like iron one second and feather-light the next. It was the alternation between sensations that always drove him to panting, Jasper seemed to take some satisfaction from drawing things out the same way Monty did from getting them both of worked up into a fiery rush; that role reversal had simply been there from the first clumsy experimentation and suited them so well it had become the norm.

And thankfully Monty had the reasonable sense to be quiet, it involved a degree of biting his lip and making up for it in jolted motions once Jasper's hands had ceased teasing and begun stroking in earnest but only low sounds managed to sneak past while his body coiled up from the inside out and his hand groped desperately for connection.  
He found it once his palm dropped to Jasper's forearm and he held onto him, giving in to letting go in slow waves.

Too much, when he simply couldn't take it anymore Monty uttered a breathy groan and tipped his head back, dizzy from the motion and the spark across his nerves that left him feeling boneless and disconnected and somehow after the thrumming in his ears had died down and the tide of numbing pleasure soaking through him had eased he found himself half upright and mostly slumped over. 

It only took a little nudge to make him reach the ground entirely, sprawled on his back and using the corner of Jasper's ribs as an uncomfortable pillow while he rode out the endorphins and their inviting high.

Distantly Monty realized they were both going to need a shower in the morning, or what passed for one now as a trip to the river, because if the sharp scent of alcohol and sweat hanging in the tent was even half as bad on them nobody was going to come within miles of either of them.

He realized he must have spoken the thought out loud because Jasper was laughing again and the sound was a nice background to the rapid thump of his own heartbeat as his body made an effort to cool back down after the exertion.

"They're not so bad, the scars.' Monty mused in a lazy tone now that everything had begun to move in slow motion once more.

Somewhere Jasper snorted, within reach but still a million miles away from the sleepy little pocket of existence Monty was settling himself into, and the words were humored; 'Yeah, right. The new and improved Jasper?"

"I didn't think the old Jasper needed to be improved," Monty replied, thinking the answer good enough for the time being while the stars were dancing in his brain and his best friend offered only a grateful sound in reply that trailed off into a soft snore. 

The rest of the evening Jasper dreamt of scars stitched together with dust-stained amber threads carrying the scent of the forest and the shine of firelight, and Monty telling him the future was buried under his flawed skin rather than in the stars; chasing away all the nightmares for at least a little while.


End file.
